


stains (ink, magic, lipstick)

by ElasticElla



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Slytherin Ginny Weasley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:26:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25112338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: In her fifth year, Gabrielle transfers to Hogwarts.
Relationships: Gabrielle Delacour/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 22
Kudos: 64
Collections: Little Black Dress Exchange 2020





	stains (ink, magic, lipstick)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nereid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nereid/gifts).



In the beginning, there was magic. 

Witches and wizards came later, that’s important. That it still exists without them, one day will again. There’s many things Ginevra disagrees with her family about, with her father about – the metaphysical is just one more. 

It should have heavier implications, but they’re still fussed over Ginny being sorted Slytherin five years ago. Philosophical differences are ignored in comparison, as if one had no bearing on the other. There had been a flurry of knitting sent from her Mum that first year, all hasty half-crooked green loops two weeks late. Back before her parents entertained the possibility that she wasn’t a miss-sort or a louder call for attention, that she actually belongs in Slytherin. 

In the beginning, there was a diary that talked back. 

(She never really got past that.)

.

Magic always leaves a mark. 

The insides of her wrists tingle when she considers them, two small sickle-sized spots where she aims a perfume charm every morning. Tom hadn’t been able to teach her that one, his spells for surviving Slytherin limited to tailoring robes, perfectly coiffed hair, and a wide array of hexes. (Some mornings she shines her hair and can’t stop laughing, Voldemort, not her mother or a dormmate, fucking _Voldemort_ taught her this charm.)

Third year she joined the Quidditch team, Flint keeping practices going even without the house cup being held. Bole followed her in the locker room once, landing in the Hospital Wing for a week. No one tried much after that, wasn’t worth the hassle for a spotty blood traitor. (Their insults could use some work, uninspired as they are.) In the right lighting she can still see where her diffindos cut up his face. 

Magic is eternal. 

.

Missing Tom, only a few crucial letters short of missing time, is far too benign seeming. Too relatable. Too flat as well, doesn’t nearly capture the depth of her hatred nor loneliness. (It isn’t fair to expect any friend to be available each moment of the day, to have answers to nearly every question that pops into her head.) 

Missing Voldemort makes her sound like her inbred housemate idiots. Blaise is still convinced she’s pulling some long con, developed after her heir debut. It’s irritating really, how attractive he is – would be irresistible if he could keep his pretty mouth shut.

.

Any other year, a part-Veela transferring to Hogwarts would be the height of gossip. She still is for a time, but it dies down quick enough after her arrival. Gabrielle’s sorted Ravenclaw, there’s a few gross comments thrown around the dungeons about her blood, her body, and that’s that. 

Ginny’s curious why the girl left Beauxbatons at all, but she’s also seen Gabrielle turn her pert little nose up at every person that’s approached her. Healthy self-confidence or not, Ginny doesn’t need that. She has enough to focus on with OWLs and the upcoming quidditch matches. It’s been too long since they got to play evenly enough to call competitive, damn Umbridge, and she isn’t losing her hard earned spot to some spoiled rich kid. 

Greed was thick in her veins before she met Tom, he merely helped refine it. The first step is to isolate what she wants: to never be poor, to never be alone, to never shy away. 

The first has her flirting with the scouts that visit during large matches, the last has her chin permanently set, and the second, the second has her passively observing Gabrielle even if nothing will come of it. (It was Harry once, a long time ago when he didn’t remind her of Tom.)

.

In a twist of fate, Gabrielle corners her after dinner, idly twirling her wand. “You ’ave been watching me.” 

Her mind picks the worst moment to blank out, and she’d love to blame the girl’s veela powers over her own over-active hormones. “Yeah?” 

“I require someone to show me around ‘ogsmeade this weekend. 9 o’clock in the hall, yes?” 

“Yeah,” Ginny repeats dazed, and Gabrielle bestows an enchanting smile before turning away with a swirl of her skirt. 

It isn’t until the bright blonde hair disappears around the corner that her mind comes back, giddy with intrigue and excitement. She never even noticed Gabrielle looking back, is totally doing all her homework tonight in case Gabrielle wants to turn their morning date into a weekend affair. 

…she doesn’t finish the homework, not for a lack of trying. Ginny can’t sit still, knee and quill bouncing, a barely started essay before her that she can’t focus on enough to reread. _Gabrielle Delacour_ is is taking her out in less than twelve hours. Less than eleven. Less than ten. Less than nine. Less than – 

.

Ginny isn’t sure if she slept at all, stuck in a state of adrenaline like she’s mid-quidditch match. She’s early to the rendezvous point, feels like an over eager third year on their first date. She keeps going through her dressing up mental checklist, has already checked her breath and hair and nails and robes a dozen times. 

Gabrielle appears, a vision of bronze that punches the air from her lungs. The robes have deep blue accents, the silk clinging in a way that dries out her mouth, and all Ginny can inanely wonder is if Gabrielle had these robes custom made before her sorting. She must have, and fuck, Ginny yanks her eyes up as Gabrielle closes the distance between them, dropping a kiss to each of her cheeks. 

“Good morning Ginevra.” 

“Morning,” she replies, walking her to the carriages as she spots the Carrow twins out of the corner of her eye. “What do you want to do first? Have you eaten?” 

Her copper lips curl up, a tiny smudge in her lipstick, “I could eat.” 

.

Halfway through the tour of Hogsmeade, taking an alleyway shortcut, Gabrielle shoves her up against the wall, lips descending upon hers. Even though she’s taller, Ginny feels smaller with her weight pinning her down. Her gut burns with the reminder that Gabi is, at her very base, part predator. She pulls her in closer, silk sliding under her hands.

Touching Gabrielle is like touching magic, tingles and sparks racing up her fingers and into her veins. She tastes like the strawberry tart they shared, overwhelming summer sweetness on the edge of too much and not enough. 

Fireworks go off, chased by laughter that’s thankfully far off, and dammit, Ginny’s never been so annoyed by the twins’ creations. 

Gabrielle pulls away with a mischievous grin, “Shall we relocate to a quieter ‘aunt?”

Scratch that, she’s sending them a gift basket.


End file.
